The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(14)
The inn came into sight, and her sigh of relief was so loud, he could hear from where he stood several feet away.
“Now you shall see that I am right,” she said, lengthening her stride as much as she could, given her narrow skirts. Clearly she had spent most of her life in the country.
Another carriage drove into the yard at the same time they had reached the door. Damnation! It was Braxton. The biggest gossip in town, and Lord Gerald with him.
Somehow Con had to get control of this situation. He tossed his ribbons to a stable boy, and rushed to the door of the Green Man, opening it before she could do it herself. Head held high, she entered the building like a ship under sail.
Lord save them both. He strode in after her, ready to pick up the pieces. Not that she’d thank him for it.
Standing before the startled innkeeper, she announced, “I am Lady Charlotte Carpenter—”
“And I am Lord Kenilworth. My betrothed and I are visiting my mother and we had an accident with our carriage.” He resisted the urge to blow out a breath as Braxton strolled through the entrance.
Betrothed? Charlotte whirled around to protest when she saw Lord Braxton and quickly schooled her expression to one of calm.
For the love of God! Could nothing go right? After everything she had said to Lord Kenilworth, not to mention his smug replies, she could not bear the humiliation, or his self-satisfaction.
She had allowed her normally slow-to-rise temper—and, to be honest, her fear of what a man who bought women for pleasure would do to her—get the better of her. He was right, of course. Young ladies did not simply stride into an inn and demand a room.
Perhaps it was even that kiss. It had been so soft and sweet—better than she’d ever thought a kiss could be, yet exactly how Dotty and Louisa had described it—and for the first time in hours, Charlotte had felt so safe, and she had thought that . . . well, she refused to think about that now. The kiss would never be repeated. Once she was home, she would never see him again.
“Kenilworth,” Braxton called out. “I thought that was you. Did you say you are betrothed?”
“Indeed we are. Lady Charlotte and I are visiting my mother.” Lord Kenilworth raised his quizzing glass, focusing it on the other man. “Although, I cannot imagine what your interest might be.”
She stifled a groan. Why her? What had she ever done to deserve to be in this situation? She had always tried to be kind to others and help those who needed it. Yet now, Matt was going to murder her, and Grace would not be able to stop him. At least Lord Kenilworth had ceased smirking. If only Charlotte could think of something to say. Something to stop this madness.
Down the short corridor behind her, a door opened. Please let it not be another gentleman of Lord Braxton’s ilk.
“Lady Charlotte—”
Letting go of her breath at the familiar voice, she could not resist giving Lord Kenilworth a small triumphant smile before sending up a prayer of gratitude.
“—I wondered what was taking you so long to arrive.”
A wave of relief swept over Charlotte as she curtseyed to the grand dame who had been instrumental in Dotty and Dom’s marriage. “Lady Bellamny, I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” Charlotte bussed the older lady’s cheek and whispered, “I am desperate to return home. How did you find me?”
And get as far away from Lord Kenilworth as she could. She would deal with his unwanted, though most likely necessary, announcement later.
“Pure serendipity, my dear. I am glad to see you safe,” her ladyship said in a hushed tone before patting Charlotte’s cheek and stepping back. “Yes, yes, I can imagine, but all in good time, my dear. All in good time,” her ladyship said with infuriating calm. “Come with me.” Lady Bellamny’s gaze seemed to sweep the hall as she beckoned Charlotte to follow.
Her ladyship glanced over her shoulder. “You too, Kenilworth. I am looking forward to seeing your mother again. It was kind of you to meet me here. Mrs. Watson”—Lady Bellamny beckoned the landlady—“we shall require tea and something to eat.” When Lord Braxton started forward, her ladyship fixed him with her basilisk stare. “Not you, my lord.”
Sweeping through the door to a good-sized parlor, her ladyship waved Charlotte to one of the chairs at a square oak table. Lord Kenilworth followed, taking up a position against the fireplace.
Fortunately, they did not have long to wait before Mrs. Watson and a servant carried in two pots of tea, bread, cheeses, meats, and fruit. After arranging the repast on the table, the women left the room, closing the door behind them.
Neither her ladyship nor his lordship had said a word. However, he had lost the humorous look he’d been wearing earlier. It served him right for being so pleased with himself. Now that Lady Bellamny was here, Charlotte could be home by tea.
Glancing between the two of them, she twisted the pearl ring on her right hand. Briefly, she considered breaking the silence, but decided against it. Something seemed to be going on. She just did not know what it could be.
“I heard you state that you and Lady Charlotte are betrothed.” Lady Bellamny took the chair across from Charlotte and began to pour tea.
Lord Kenilworth’s jaw moved slightly, as if he was grinding his teeth, before replying with bad grace. “Under the circumstances, there was little else I could do.”
Her ladyship raised one imperious brow. “Do not look so down in the mouth. Lady Charlotte will make you a perfectly lovely wife. Your mother will be thrilled that you have finally decided to wed.”